


Don't let me drown

by Jodlet



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 18:41:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1236943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jodlet/pseuds/Jodlet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Altair and Malik's first time. PWP</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Last of my older works. I hope you like it.

Sometimes Malik wondered why he bothered with Altaïr. He was talented, he was quickly becoming the best Assassin the order had seen in years and he was a pain in the arse! Currently they were both outside on their knees; Altaïr clutching Malik’s robes desperately as he practically cried his eyes out, babbling about drowning and not wanting to die. He sighed at the younger novice and took his elbows into his hands, “Get up, Altaïr…you whine more than Kadar when he scrapes his knee.” He pulled Altaïr up and half dragged him toward the nearby stables before the light rain turned into torrential downpour. “I can not believe you tripped in a puddle and thought you were drowning! You are sixteen!”

“B-but Malik! Y-y-you know I hate water…” the teen sniffled quietly as he wiped at his face with a damp sleeve. Malik closed his eyes and took a deep breath, how had he ended up taking care of his six year old brother and Altaïr – who was ten years older than the blue eyed boy!? “I am sorry…do not be angry, brother.”

“I am not angry, I just find you ridiculous sometimes.” He reached forward and unclasped the leather strap around the other’s chest, “Come, let us get you out of these clothes before you get a cold and I have to deal with that as well.” Next to come off was the hood that usually covered soft, brown hair and honey coloured eyes; Altaïr hiccupped once and wiped his face again in an attempt to recover some of his dignity. He had always been scared of water, he hated rain and just the thought of the treacherous liquid filled his mind with images of struggling for air and sinking into the black. Malik was the only one who knew just how afraid he was of water, Malik didn’t laugh at him or tease him about it and he was always there to make sure Altaïr would never drown. The younger man undid his white robes quickly and shrugged out of the sopping material, a chuckle caught his attention and he blushed brightly. “How did you get so thoroughly soaked in a puddle?”

Altaïr frowned and threw his robe at the man, “Shut up! At least I did not cut myself shaving this morning and run around like a headless chicken!”

“That is because you do not grow hair on your face…I sometimes wonder with how you act if there is any hair on your – ”

“Malik!” the older teen laughed again at the near squeak produced out of Altaïr’s mouth. He was a late bloomer for sure, his voice had not long cracked and often sounded more husky than anything else – except the squeaks that came only when he was embarrassed. He knew it annoyed Altaïr the same way it had annoyed him when his voice and body begun to change, Malik had been relieved when his voice finally settled into a deep baritone – Altaïr had complained at first that he sounded strange, then later admitted that he liked it and hoped he would sound similar in a few years. Malik held up his hands in surrender and tried not to laugh at the indignant scowl on the other’s face as he sat down on an empty barrel. Altaïr continued to strip his clothing in silence, growling irritably when the wet material of his grey top refused to peel from his skin and got caught around his head, forcing the teen to pull it down again.

Malik stood up and placed his hands on the hem of the shirt and slid them up the other’s body. He twitched slightly at the feel of Altaïr’s body under his palms – when had soft skin turned into firm muscle? His dark eyes traced over tanned skin and he marvelled at the almost defined musculature of the other; he felt a little jealous that someone two years his junior was just as toned as him. “Malik?” he looked up to meet honey coloured eyes and swallowed guiltily. Without realising it, he had been rubbing his thumbs along Altaïr’s ribs, he pulled the top roughly up and off of him and went back to idly standing about; telling Altaïr that he was as graceful as a dead fish when the teen nearly tripped over his own boots. His eyes, however, drifted back to him and watched with fascination as dexterous fingers undid the tied of his trousers – he held in a surprised groan as the falling material revealed the ‘V’ of firm abdominal muscles. He looked away before anything more was revealed and absently bit down on his hand.

What was wrong with him?! Surely he wasn’t that horny that he was admiring Altaïr in an abandoned stable; and why now? He must have seen the other bare thousands of times. When had Altaïr’s body even changed so much? He could have sworn that just the other night the teen’s body was slim with no definition what so ever and he was as desirable as a woman with herpes! That had been in the dim light of their room though, not like now. Now the sun was filtering through the damaged roof and highlighting every curve, dip and groove of the other’s young, lithe body! Bloody sun and its blatant worship of the young male physique – like some sort of fan girl! “Are you listening to me?” Malik looked up and made sure that he made eye contact only, he had not realised Altaïr had been speaking, “Obviously not…the cloth behind you, can you pass it to me so I can dry off?”

The dark eyed teen snatched the cloth, which looked more like a small blanket, and held it out Altaïr – who had turned his back for some reason, which wasn’t so that Malik could stare at arse and bite his lip as his dick twitched suddenly. How Malik hated being eighteen and single! He stalked over to the younger and threw the cloth over his shoulders in an effort to hide the other from his eyes, but as his hands rested on warm skin he couldn’t help but rub the cloth along his arms. Altaïr groused how he wasn’t a child that needed to be dried by another. “Well you were barely able undress yourself.” He tried to concentrate on his methods of air assassination, the lecture his sword tutor had given earlier that day – anything to keep the semi hard erection he was sporting from growing harder. Now what was it he said? Always have a good grip, treat it often with oil and always sheath it properly…stupid euphemisms!

Altaïr gasped in shock and Malik froze. “W-what are…ngh!” he groaned in surprise when the older continues to run his hands along his bare chest, fingers brushing over a taut nipple, “Malik!” his voice cracked slightly at the strange attention and the young novice found himself leaning into the touch. He could hardly be blamed for wanting more of the burning sensation, he had been feeling needy for months, sometimes he’d just look at Malik getting ready for bed and become hard. This had to be another wet dream, another dream where he would wake up with sticky sheets and sneak off away from the cause. Teeth grazed the side of his neck and he couldn’t help the breathless plea, “Make it stop.”

Malik stopped abruptly and pulled away as if burned – he should not be doing this to the teen! He was too young to be messed around with, Malik wasn’t even sure if Altaïr knew what he was doing. “I am sorry…I…I was not thinking straight.” He secured the cloth around the other and stepped away with his hands gripping in his hair irately. So what if he was hard as a rock and horny for his best friend – he had no right to take advantage of a teen who suffered from erotic dreams nearly every night and practically fucked his mattress. He stopped pulling his hair and settled on leaning against the stable wall to try and will his erection away, “I do not know what came over me, brother.”

“Why did you stop!” Altaïr demanded as he grabbed Malik’s shoulder and spun him around, “I did not want you to stop touching me – just make it stop aching!” he took the older novice’s hand and wrapped it around his turgid length with a near whimper, “Please Malik, you made it like this.” He crushed their bodies together and left sloppy, inexperienced kisses along Malik’s jaw; all the while working on loosening his robes.

“Why am I always taking care of your problems?” he gripped firmly around Altaïr and stroked him only a few times before the teen mewled needily and fell against his chest, “training, puddles – your cock.” Altaïr whined into his neck at the teasing, “And all you ever give me is grief; what will you do for me?”

“Anything!” his fingers succeeded in removing the leather strap, belt and sash from Malik, the hood was next, followed by his robe and grey top. Their skin tingled and burned at every point of contact, Malik’s fisting making the inexperienced youth’s knees buckle. He had never touched himself before – not like this. He only ever seemed to get like this when he dreamed and to actually be awake and receiving the delicious friction was sending him mad! Gripping his trousers, Altaïr pulled Malik away from the wall and manoeuvred him over to the haystack in the corner where he pushed him down. “You are making it worse.”

Malik chuckled as Altaïr straddled his lap and then looked unsure of himself. The teen always seemed to rush into things without thinking about his next move; he had not idea what to do now. He stared down at Malik, ignoring the decidedly smug look on his face and concentrating on the hard, smooth skin under his hands – so similar to his own. but Malik was harder, he was comfortable in his own skin and wasn’t awkward like Altaïr often felt…it was comforting to run his hands up and down the other’s chest and make him gasp pleasantly at the sensation. “Kiss me, Altaïr.” He leant down to hover his mouth over Malik’s, unsure of what he was doing but eager all the same. Malik took Altaïr’s face and pulled him down to crush their lips together, Altaïr moaned into his mouth when he felt his lips sting – his new scar tingling as their mouths meshed together and an eager tongue slipped in, tasting the newly mended skin.

“Malik,” Altaïr gasped as he pulled away, “I…I stole one of your books…just to find out how to stop this aching on my own. I want…I want to…” he blushed deeply as he choked on his words; he wanted Malik, he dreamed about Malik, he watched Malik and all he could think about was stupid Malik and his dark eyes! He hated not knowing what to do about his sudden attraction and there was no one he trusted to ask about what was happening to his body – why his cock rose every time he watched Malik nibble the end of his pen at study! Wasn’t he supposed to lust after the women in the garden? Wasn’t that why every boy his age was sent to one of the women?

“What is it you want? Which book?” Malik asked as he sucked gently on the skin of the other teen’s neck. 

Altaïr sat up in frustration and rocked his hips against Malik’s with a loud keen. He could feel the hard length pushing against his rear and he stared down at the other with a lost look, “I want…Malik…I want you inside!” he blurted out. Malik’s eyes widened and he gripped the other’s hips to stop the rocking; that book. He should have hidden it further than under his bed! He had been with women before, enjoyed their attention and learned eagerly how to please them but…he had caught two of his Brothers kissing one night and wondered how two men could get pleasure from one another. So he had found a book that described every conceivable way of tearing pleasure from ones body – including same sex pairings. “M-Malik? I can do this for you…” Altaïr whispered not certain if he had said something completely wrong.

“You want me to fuck you? Like I would with a woman?” he sat up a little further, biting back a moan when Altaïr’s heavy weight shifted against his manhood, “if you want something more than a hand you should go to the garden…I-I do not know what to do with a man…I should not even be doing this! I am supposed to take care of you.” He wanted to escape; this was too much to ask in return from the younger novice! Altaïr was smart, he would probably become an Assassin before he hit twenty and Malik was sure he would never catch up to the sometimes arrogant teen. But in these situations – when Altaïr was unsure and maybe a little frightened – Malik was supposed to keep him from harm. This was all going haywire and he couldn’t do it! Malik pushed the other off of his lap and stood up on shaky legs to collect his clothing, “This should not have happened.” He untangled his grey top hastily - barely getting it the right side before he heard the movement of hay and a whimper.

He turned, praying internally that he would not have to deal with the cry baby side that Altaïr rarely displayed and ended up dropping his clothing all together in shock. His eyes widened considerably and he swallowed thickly at what he saw – how was he supposed to deal with this side of Altaïr?! The teen was on his back, legs splayed wide, one hand attentively stroking up and down his swollen length, the other hand toying with an erect nipple, his eyes slitted so that the barest hint of gold shone through and his bottom lip captured between his teeth. He was presented like a gift and Malik could practically feel his trousers straining at the seams as his own erection begged to be free. “Please…please, Malik…please.” His eyes had closed completely and his head rolled side to side as he begged over and over and over for Malik to come back to him.

Malik had never been one to be bullied into something. He was firm with Kadar, he never let anyone pick on him, he never procrastinated and he never deviated from what he believed in. he was well disciplined, mature and always sensible. So he had no idea how he had ended up naked with Altaïr’s legs hitched up onto his hips, his heels digging into his back and trying to pull him forward – into him. Something had drawn him back to Altaïr’s side, made him stroked tanned skin, lick kiss and nip at each and every inch he could until finally he’d ended up between the younger’s legs. Altaïr was sucking and nipping at his left shoulder, urging him to hurry up and enter him but something felt wrong – missing. He had read the book and it had said two men could find great pleasure together but there was something else he was supposed to do. It made him hesitate and in turn frustrated Altaïr to the point of flipping their positions roughly and grabbing Malik’s penis with determination. “You are killing me with your slowness! Stop thinking for once!” he leaned his head back to that wonderful spot on the other’s shoulder and without further ado he pushed his body down onto Malik’s.

There were two very powerful sensations running through the darker teen at that moment: pleasure. So beautifully intense it was maddening how no woman had ever made him feel so – there were no words! And pain. A searing, burning, slow tear of pain clawing down his chest and exploding in his left shoulder. It took a moment to separate the pleasant buzz to find out why he was hurting. Altaïr had clamped his teeth down on his skin so hard that blood was almost pouring and his blunt nails had left stinging gouges down his body. The younger teen seemed to be struggling for breath, his chest heaving against Malik’s and whining escaping in short bursts. It was then that Malik remembered why he had hesitated; Altaïr had not been prepared, he had not been stretched and they had used nothing make the passage easier, not to mention Altaïr had practically dropped himself halfway down Malik’s shaft like it was a race. “It is alright, Altaïr…come on, breathe – look at me”

Malik took his face and coaxed him into releasing the vice like grip of his teeth. He held his face level with his and swore under his breath at the sight of his expression – pained was an understatement! His eyes were screwed up, tears literally pouring out; finding some gap to escape, lips pulled back over his clenched teeth, nearly creaking under the strain and Malik’s blood was smeared over his chin. “Altaïr, brother…look at me please!” he ordered desperately, the way the other seemed completely frozen was scaring him. “Breathe, Altaïr.” A few more of the whining gasps tore from his throat and his eyes – with what looked like great effort – opened just barely. “I am going to pull out; relax for me.” 

A broken wail came from him as Malik tried to move, “No! Please! Please do not move!” he cried, his face dropping into the crook of Malik’s shoulder, “It hurts! It hurts so much! Please, Malik! Please do not – ” the older novice forced his mouth over his and ran his hands through the teen’s hair, his shoulders, back – everywhere he could. Altaïr sobbed into him and Malik tried to soothe him as best he could, tried to distract him from the movement of his hips; without any luck. He turned them back to their original position and groaned at the tight heat around himself, ashamed that he could still feel so good through the other’s anguish. He stared at him for a long moment, what was he supposed to do if he could not move? Chewing his lip nervously he thought of a shaky plan at best and reached between them to the flaccid length of the one under him, carefully pumping the organ and trailing kisses all over Altaïr’s face. “M-Malik?” his voice was cracking embarrassingly again but he wanted to know what the other was doing.

“I will not move, I promise. You were relaxed when you first took me in, remember? So I will make you feel good again…it will be alright.” He sucked on his bottom lip, tongue teasing the scar and free hand caressing up and down his ribs, “Just take deep breaths and it will get better.” He was never doing this again, Altaïr could spread himself out and rut against his own hand as much as he wanted but Malik would never do this again – ever! His hips were in agony, thighs tight and locked as he desperately refused to thrust the rest of the way in as he wanted to. It seemed like forever but something almost pleasurable clawed its way out of Altaïr’s throat, his cock slowly but very definitely beginning to fill again as his arousal returned bit by bit. Finally a moan came from him and Malik released a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. The older teen yelled in surprise at the slight rock of Altaïr’s hips against his, his cock being swallowed greedily instead of leaving, “A-Altaïr?!”

He peeked up at Malik through his lashes and gave a weak smile, “It does not hurt as much…it feels…just a little deeper - !!!” Altaïr’s mouth opened wide in a silent scream, his back arched impossibly and he forced Malik forward to the hilt. Malik groaned at the sensation and the simply blissful look on the other – he had read about this part, it had been described like reaching climax but not. Despite his promise not to move, Malik gave an unsure thrust forward and Altaïr’s head thrashed side to side and he grabbed handfuls of hay as if trying to anchor himself to the ground. “Malik! Oh, oh, Malik! I – I - !” it was as if every single part of Altaïr locked up at once, pulled so tight that he wondered if he would snap and shatter into a thousand tiny pieces – it was like drowning in the deepest pool. All he could do was scream Malik’s name as he shattered.

Malik couldn’t stop the long, continuous moan coming so deep from his chest he could do nothing to silence it as Altaïr’s body clamped down hard on him. His hand and stomach felt scolded as the younger man came screaming his name and clenching around his now furiously pounding hips, until Malik had his own climax ripped from his body. The dark eyed novice shivered violently as he collapsed on the other, somehow hearing over his deafening heartbeat the sound of his name being mewled over and over. Shaky arms coming up and around his middle, holding him tightly as if his life depended on it. “I have you, Altaïr…I have you.”

00

Kadar watched curiously as his big brother carried Altaïr into their room on his back, the younger sleeping soundly against the teen and snuggled close. “What happened?” he asked as he placed the book he was reading on his lap, “Is he alright, Malmal?”

“Yes, he fell in a puddle.” Malik smirked slightly as he put him to bed and decided he would make him some of the tea he liked so much when he woke up. He deserved some pampering after all. Malik leant down and kissed Altaïr’s forehead gently, ruffling his brown hair before turning to look at his little brother curiously. “What have you been doing?”

“Reading!” he cheered happily, “I do not understand all of the words but this book has lots of strange pictures.” Little Kadar watched his brother smile at him and then settle on his own bed, he looked exhausted. “Brother?”

“Hmm?”

“What is a prostate?” Malik was definitely going to have to stop hiding things under the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Malik sighed in relief after crossing the slippery balance beam that led to the abandoned area of the old Assassin stables, he had searched all over the fortress in search of Altaïr and this was the very last place. It was tedious to get through, the wooden stable was damaged anyways and the ground was uneven and with the recent weather covered in huge puddles. It was also the same stable he and Altaïr had had sex in; it was definitely out of the way because no one had come when they were yelling for each other. He was a little worried though, he had returned to his room to find it a mess and his little brother wide eyed on his untipped bed. ‘Altaïr was crying’ was all the explanation Kadar could give before Malik ran off to find the teen. As he neared the stable he could hear the broken, muffled sobs coming from inside, at least he had found the other. “Altaïr?”

He listened to the sound of boots scurrying on old stone and then the tell tale sound of hay being leapt into. Malik entered the stable quietly and looked around, Altaïr’s hood was thrown in the corner, a few throwing knives lodged into a beam; one lying on the ground surrounded by tufts of hair…hair? “Altair!” Malik yelled in alarm and reached into the haystack to rip the younger teen from the middle. He looked like startled owl, his eyes wide and alarmed, watery with unshed tears, mouth quivering in an attempt to stay silent and his usually unruly, short brown hair was shorter in some places, “What are you doing?!” Malik’s fists tightened in the novice’s robes and he stared down as water squelched out over his skin. “Why are you all wet?”

“Abbas…he…he held my head in the fountain…” Altaïr choked on a sob as Malik pulled him up into his arms, “I swear I did not do anything to provoke him! I could not breathe, Malik! I was drowning and you were not there!” Malik held him tighter as he cried into the crook of his neck; Abbas was always picking on Altaïr, he was a little older than Malik and too jealous of Altaïr. He would always pick on Altaïr, telling him he was stupid or that he was going to fall and die if he ever took a leap of faith. Words never really had an effect on the honey eyed boy though, he would shrug or stare boredly or sometimes come up with a clever insult; so Abbas had resorted to sabotaging Altaïr’s equipment, he would barge the teen in the halls or simply try to start a fight – which Malik would usually appear and threaten to beat the living soul out of the other. But to actually try and down Altaïr! He was a dead man.

“Did you cry?” he felt Altaïr shake his head and he smiled, “Good because you know he would use it against you.”

“He cornered me with Rauf and Nikil. He shoved me into the wall and caught my hair in his fist…then he dunked me.” Altaïr shifted a little so that he was practically on the older teen’s lap, “He told me that I should have been drowned at birth that the Christians would not have me and how I would never fit in with the Muslims. That my mother did not care when I was moved to the fortress and that father was ashamed. That even if I dyed my hair black I would never fit in anywhere.” He pulled away a little to scrub at his eyes, “So…I said, ‘at least I know who my father was’ …he dunked me again.”

Malik groaned internally. If he had of been there he would have laughed at the insult but it was a stupid thing to say to someone bigger than you, stronger and with more people. “And then he let you go, you trashed our room and ran out here when Kadar caught you crying like a little girl. You are so dumb sometimes.” He began undoing the wet robes whilst trying to catch the other’s eyes, “Listen to me, brother; no one cares that you are not dark skinned or completely pale, they would not care if you were blonde either. Abbas is just using anything he can to put you down…you are more skilled than him – he is jealous and so he picks on you. Give it another year and I bet he will not come near you; I mean, you are already the same height as me and no doubt you will be taller – you smug little bastard – you are not as scrawny as you used to be and – you arrogant little twerp – you are beautiful…like a mountain cat.”

“S-shut up!” Altaïr muttered as he blushed and removed himself from Malik’s lap after slapping his hands away from his clothing. “You are a damn liar! You said you would always back me up and…and you do not…”

“Do not what?” he snapped as he was upset that Altaïr had turned on him.

“If you thought I was beautiful then you would not avoid me like I have plague!” Malik opened his mouth to deny it but Altaïr threw him a vicious glare, “After we…in here – after you were really sweet and then the next morning you were ignoring me…you always have to study these days and you will not even train with me! Abbas would not have picked on me if you had of been there. Are you ashamed of me too?”

“No!” Malik hissed angrily and stood up to stop Altaïr from bolting again, “Damn it, Altaïr, I just have to look at you and I am harder than ever before…I want you again but you were hurting so much. I nearly tore you in two, remember that? Or was passing out enough to erase it from your mind?” both teens stared at the other one in awkward silence, Altaïr did his new trick of sucking his scarred bottom lip into his mouth and looking at the floor. Malik looked away for his sanity’s sake. The clouds hid the sun and the stable was plunged into dullness and it wasn’t until the room lit up again that he broke the silence, “I am sorry.” Malik mumbled. He couldn’t blame Altaïr for feeling angry or used and he wanted for things to go back to how they were between them – he would start by kicking Abbas’s teeth in.

Altaïr shuffled forward and gripped Malik’s sleeves, eyes shining as the sun caught them, “Can we try again? If you really are not ashamed of me and you really think I am beautiful…can we please do it again?” he leant forward and kissed Malik’s throat gently, his tongue tasting the skin for only a moment before retreating shyly, “We can do it properly, this time I will be patient and then we can be as we were.” Malik’s fingers went back to undoing the wet clothing – a great feeling of Déjà vu washing over him. this was where they were three weeks ago, Malik was undoing Altaïr’s wet clothing and trying his best not to ravish his best friend, trying to ignore the persistent throbbing in his trousers and failing miserably. He had already promised himself he would never have sex with Altaïr again.

00

Altaïr groaned pleasurably as Malik pulled his hip down to meet his own, “Ah! I see you are back.” Altaïr chuckled as he rolled his hips teasingly, “I thought you were getting bored of me.”

“I apologise, brother, especially as I seem to have left you coherent enough to speak.” Malik let go of the other man’s hip in favour of pulling him down by the back of his head for a hungry kiss, as enjoyable as crushing his mouth to Altaïr’s, Malik couldn’t suppress the tiny sigh that escaped him. it sounded disappointed enough that Altaïr slowed down to a stop and shivered slightly as he settled on Malik’s lap, the man’s cock throbbing deep within him. He looked down at Malik with confusion in the clouded gaze, “Why did you stop?”

“Why did you sigh?” he countered, “What has you so distracted that fucking me into oblivion is not foremost in your mind?” he was feeling a little put out at how impassionate his lover was being – usually Malik had him on his back by now, screaming and writhing like a back street whore.

Malik growled in frustration at the halt to the delicious friction he had been feeling but he knew Altaïr would not continue until he knew why he was being so listless. “You know the old stable that has not been used since we were children?” Altaïr nodded, “Well, the instructors want to tear it all down and use it for training…I agreed but…we have some good memories stored in that stable do we not?”

“Hmm, you used to take me against the wall…the floor – remember that support beam? I wonder if it still has the marks my nails left…I learned to suck you cock in there – you would force yourself to the back of my throat and not care if I choked.”

“I seem to recall finding you in there with your hand wrapped around yourself, fingers thrusting into your greedy hole and moaning like a bitch in heat because you could not find your sweet spot. You then proceeded to beg me to take you until everyone in the fortress could hear you.” Altaïr chuckled at that, he had been fucking his own fingers for two whole weeks whilst Malik was absent on a mission but no matter what – he couldn’t find that spot! He leaned down and sucked at the scar on Malik’s shoulder, the one shaped like teeth – his teeth to be precise. “That was from the first time I took you…you had been so eager that you practically tore yourself open on me, you had been so tight and you cried because it hurt – you blushed in shyness.” He hissed slightly at the pressure of teeth over the old wound, “Now look at you, you complain if I prepare you and you are shameless.”

Altaïr smirked and as if to prove the other’s words; leant back, hands steady on Malik’s knees behind himself as he lifted his hips sensually until he could feel only the tip of his partner and dropped down with a moan. His right hand rubbed along his stomach, the movement catching Malik’s dark eyes – leading them to the proud length that became encased in that hand. “You made me this way. Pushing me away all the time and making me beg for you. I know you like to watch.” He lifted again, arching in pleasure as Malik pulled him back down, “I had to become shameless just to get you to touch me…Tomorrow, tomorrow we will go to that stable and relive much.” He rolled off of Malik and lay beside him, “Only if you stop mourning and come inside me already.”

“So impatient, Altaïr.” Malik pulled one of Altaïr’s legs over his shoulder and roughly entered him, their moans intermingling as a steady pace was set and all sad thoughts burned up in satisfying heat. “You should be ashamed of your whorishness. The grand master that begs to be taken until he screams.”

“I – I – ah!” the Assassin pushed his hips up in hopes of keeping the pressure against his prostate longer, “I have – again! Malik, oh, Malik!” the Dai smirked and slowed for a moment to let the other speak, “I have nothing to be ashamed of!” Malik grinned and leant down, nearly bending the other in two as he caught his mouth and forced his tongue past lips. His hand raked through messy, brown hair – his fingers pulling at uneven tufts of hair that never grew properly after he had tried to cut it as a teen. When Altaïr had been young, shy and bullied by those who now called him master.

Malik pulled back, hips still pistoning in and out, the same fingers mapping strong muscle and scars that marred smooth, tan skin. He adored this body but it was harder to record than a river, always changing though refreshing all the same. The body beneath him began to thrash violently, gasping and whining like he was sixteen again, the sound more satisfying with the deep guttural noises and growling – his mountain cat more like a lion in these later years. Altaïr locked up underneath him and came, nails adding to the already sore scores down his back and clamping down hard on Malik’s length. The Dai groaned loudly as he released inside the man and collapsed down beside him. “Whore.”

Altaïr chuckled at the insult as he moved to rest his head on Malik’s chest, his right hand trailing up slick skin to trace over the bite mark on his left shoulder. “I think I should give you another – for size comparison of course.” He felt Malik laugh through his harsh breathing and rubbed along the amputated limb, “Some things will never change or disappear, Malik. We still have the master’s desk, Abbas’s bed, the roof…the watch tower wall…I think we should do it in Abbas’s new house.”

Malik closed his eyes, Altaïr would never grow up. “Whore.”


	3. Chapter 3

“It looks so much smaller…and did it always smell this bad?” Altaïr pulled a rusted throwing knife out of the wall and grinned at it fondly, he had wondered where it had gone, “Remember you used this to secure the ropes around my wrists; I had splinters in my chest for weeks after that…worth everyone.” He glanced back at Malik who was tracing the small gouges in the main support beam, “Still there?”

“Barely…little novice fingers imprinted forever – well…until tomorrow.” The Dai sighed sadly and moved to the little trunk that they used to hide blankets and oil in, maybe a little food if they were between training sessions. The hole in the ceiling is bigger, the haystack has rotted and this support beam is on its way out.” He caressed the prints again, this time Altaïr’s hand covering his and wrapping his free hand around the man’s middle, “I know we can fuck anywhere but this place was special.” He leant back into the younger man and leaned his head to the side to allow a rough jaw to rub against it. 

Altaïr kissed his neck sweetly, “Are you getting sentimental in your old age?” Malik slapped the back of Altaïr’s hood and escaped his hold; he opened up the trunk in the corner and threw a large blanket at the man. “Ugh…this hasn’t been washed in…five years – I think we grew some sort of life on it.”

“Wonderful, we fathered mould,” he pulled out a sealed jar and placed it on one of the gates of the pen, “The haystack is not useable, that wall is about to collapse and I am not lying on this floor.” He informed Altaïr as he hung his black coat up on a hook and proceeded to undo his white robes with practiced ease, whilst trying to find a suitable place to screw in the old stable. He remembered it as something much grander, a place he could hide in and lay beside Altaïr for hours talking about nothing – where they were not assassins and where they could love each other without judgement. The light used to dapple across the floor like stars and now it was dim and dusty and…forgotten. A hand rested on his cheek gently and shocked him out of his reverie. Altaïr was looking at him with slight confusion, even without the sun his eyes shone like golden coins; he leaned in and pressed their mouths together in a chaste kiss.

The man had watched Altaïr for a long while, his dark fingers had been toying with the final tie and his mouth was set in a frown as his eyes were downcast. Surely he was not that upset about an old stable that was likely to collapse in the next rains. He went through his mind in an effort to think what would make the other sad, nothing bad had happened lately, they had new recruits and after a year of hard work they had wheedled out all of Al Mualim’s evil…no one had died. “Malik!” he shut his mouth quickly, he had not meant to let out the shocked sound as his mind finally latched onto something – Kadar had died one year ago tomorrow. No wonder he was being particularly clingy to his memories. “I wish you would trust me with more of yourself…this has nothing to do with this stupid old stable.”

Malik shrugged weakly, “I trust you, Altaïr. Perhaps I dragged us out here in hopes of getting the strength to screw you until you were too sore to bother me for at least a few days – there is nothing worse than you being horny and distant.”

“…That is so flattering. ‘I can not be bothered to bang you right now so let us go to a smelly old building – maybe I will be inclined then.’” Altaïr pressed him up against the support beam and kissed his mouth again, “we can be close and not have sex…and…just because something can not be seen does not mean it is gone forever – it is just like any old building.”

“And Kadar was just any old person!?” Malik covered his mouth with his palm, eyes shutting in an effort to hide himself from the other, “I am sorry…I just miss him.” he felt himself being pulled into Altaïr and rested his head on his shoulder, “I just want to grab everything that means something to me and not let it go.” As if to illustrate his point he wrapped the material of Altaïr’s sleeve in his hand and held on tightly when the Assassin dared to take a step back. 

Altaïr undid the belt and sash around Malik’s middle and continued untying the robes, “I miss him too…” he mumbled, he spread the clothing apart and smirked as dark skin was revealed to him, “I do not miss your top though.” Altaïr dragged his tongue across a dusky nipple before continuing down the man’s navel, occasionally nipping the skin as he dropped to his knees. “Let me make you forget just for a little while…will you let me?” Malik let go of the sleeve caught awkwardly in his grip and nodded; how could he refuse such a sincere offer from the eternal pain in his side? Altaïr smirked in victory, internally apologising to Kadar for shoving his memory aside in favour of his cock, he undid the trousers before his eyes and his smirk grew when he realised Malik was already becoming hard. Wrapping his hand around his partner Altaïr gave a bold swipe to the head and went to work on making Malik squirm.

The Dai let out a little mewl, his fingers digging into the beam behind him as Altaïr wasted no time in trying to swallow him whole – he briefly wondered if Altaïr was just naturally talented at swallowing large objects or if it was a result of him always trying to force himself into the back of the other’s throat when they were younger. He didn’t care either way as long as he kept humming like that! “Al – Altaïr…teeth.” Altaïr pulled off quickly, purposely grazing his teeth over the head and looking up innocently – before a devilish smirk broke the act and the man began licking up and down his manhood like a child with candy. He groaned longingly as Altaïr refused to stop staring up at him and varied between long, hard lick and just swallowing down his entire length. Malik’s head fell back with a thump against the wood, “Enough…” he gasped, “I want you – now.”

Altaïr pulled off with an obscene pop that had the Dai shivering in anticipation. He pulled off his own belt and sash hastily, his robe was dropped carelessly on the filthy stone, followed by his under shirt and Malik’s boots and trousers. “Where do you want me?” he asked as he sucked along the man’s jaw and pulled on his lobe with his teeth. The muffled answer reached his ears and Altaïr paused in favour of staring at Malik’s face, “What?” he asked with slightly wide eyes.

“I want you inside me, it has been so long since you last had me…do not be so surprised.” He leaned further against the beam and seemed satisfied with its sturdiness, “Against this beam.” Altaïr nodded slowly, he was not usually the one to do the taking and if he was honest he was happier when he had the other buried inside him but he wouldn’t deny him anything. The honey eyed Assassin snatched up the jar Malik had found earlier and opened it, surprised to find it completely untouched – he could have sworn they had used all their jars by the time he was eighteen. He then went back to Malik, nuzzling his neck sweetly and enjoying the hand running through his hair; he had not expected sharp teeth to clamp the spot between neck and shoulder as Altaïr shoved him up against the beam and lifted him from the floor. Malik wrapped his legs around his waist and glared at him smug look, “What was that for?!”

“Making sure you are awake and with me this time.” Malik rolled his eyes before pulling the Assassin forward and kissing him properly for the first time that day, no more of the sweet presses of lips on his, just tongues, teeth and needy moans. Altaïr concentrated on pulling the Dai’s tongue back into his own mouth and sucking on it suggestively, it was mostly something to distract Malik from his nervous fingers clumsily trying to find his entrance. Malik would laugh at him if he knew why he was never eager to take the man, how being with Malik that way made him feel as if he were burning up, wanting to take him hard and fast but at the same time wanting to worship every inch f him. A hand found his and guided the first finger in with a little impatience.

Moaning at the foreign sensation, Malik looked at Altaïr through his dark lashes, “I will not break…another, Altaïr…please.” His body jolted at the sensation of another finger entering him, he sounded breathless as he was carefully prepared, his back arching ever so slightly every time his prostate was nearly touched. He was tempted to yell at the other for his teasing but he knew Altaïr was useless at preparation to begin with; instead of yelling he pushed down on the searching digits and nailed that spot that made him moan loudly. Altaïr swallowed his own sound as he watched the muscles of Malik’s body roll like a wave under his skin when he arched further, “Another!” he demanded, his hand left the Assassin and snaked up the beam to grab a, conveniently placed, bracket so that he could lift himself and have more control of the movement. Now that Altaïr had found that spot inside him he was exploiting it relentlessly just to watch the bunching and clenching of his lover’s muscles as he squirmed needily.

It didn’t take long until Malik was demanding that Altaïr take him, his moaning was becoming a near continuous and his thrashing was enough to literally rock the beam behind him. stroking his member until he was certain it was slick enough not to hurt him, Altaïr sought out Malik’s mouth again and nearly had his knees buckle when Malik’s stomach and chest rolled up against his as he pushed in. “And you called me a whore?” the other man clenched around him in answer and smashed their lips together with a loud chink as their teeth met. For Malik it felt as if a wildfire was raging inside him, even if it ached uncomfortably, he lifted his body and groaned when gravity slid him back down on Altaïr. They made a quick a rhythm together, the slight cracking sound of the beam they were rutting on fell on deaf ears as Malik pleaded for Altaïr to go faster, to push harder against that spot deep inside that was making his eyes go blind and his mind blank. They both gasped when the bracket Malik had been holding onto broke from the wood causing the man to drop heavily onto Altaïr’s throbbing length.

From then on Altaïr seemed to forget that he was no longer trying to be careful, he felt as if he could not go deep enough and crushed Malik against the beam, hands sliding from his arse, up his thighs and resting under Malik’s knees. The Dai yelled the Assassin's name as his legs were parted further and the pressure on his prostate seemed constant, his neglected cock felt as if it would burst soon and Malik took it in a desperate grip and stroked himself until he came – it felt as if a bolt of lightning shot through his body. It blinded him and made everything tense painfully, the blood that pumped in his ears covered Altaïr’s languid moan as he filled his lover to near overflowing with white hot come. And then the tension left him; made him boneless and limp that he could have sworn the world was falling down around him.

Altaïr’s chest vibrating against his made Malik frowned and come back to his senses, he was on his back, Altaïr trying to breathe through his exhaustion and what seemed to be a fit of giggles. Malik then noticed that the sun was bright in his eyes and there was thatching covering Altaïr’s back – looking around he realised that the stable had collapsed around them, the support beam laying a few feet from them. “…you broke it.”

000

Well…it saves on knocking it down with hammers! And now the poor novices won’t have to miss swimming lessons to tear down a stable.


End file.
